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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778995">Serve and Service</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetMeInTheMatinee/pseuds/MeetMeInTheMatinee'>MeetMeInTheMatinee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>John Wick (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, chef, female chef, fluffiest fluff, he cant show off his knife skills, john wick x chef reader, kitchen life, woman restauranteur, yes - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:34:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeetMeInTheMatinee/pseuds/MeetMeInTheMatinee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Wick / Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, we’ve talked about this. Clean presentation please.”</p><p>“Yes, chef.”</p><p>You watched as they carefully wiped the plate clean of any spattered sauce.</p><p>“Ok, now it’s ready. Send it.”</p><p>“Yes, chef!”</p><p>You made your way down the line, observing your kitchen staff work---expecting them to execute your recipes to a very high standard. It was your name above the door after all. It had taken everything you had to get to this place. Where you were in control of your life, your career--away from your horrible family. The struggle to be completely on your own didn’t leave you without some marks but one of them was that you had zero tolerance for bullshit in your kitchen. No screaming, no abuse, no threats. People were either polite and kind or they could find another kitchen to work in. There was no space for hot headed chefs under your roof. Screaming wouldn’t make the food taste better or get it onto the plates faster and you’d found that by treating everyone fairly got you the best results. No one wanted to disappoint you---not out of fear, but out of respect. </p><p>Over the years your little neighbourhood spot had transformed into one of the most respected restaurants in the city. You did classic bistro and comfort foods in a clean, simple way. Nothing fussy or overdone. Just wholesome, delicious food cooked well and in a relaxed but comfortable environment. Soft velvet banquettes with marble topped tables, exposed brick, lots of soft, yellow lighting. A huge mirror over the antique wooden bar. You wanted everyone to feel warm and welcome. </p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>John was a regular customer. He had a small apartment in the neighbourhood nearby. He could cook for himself but more often than not was too tired to bother. Groceries were a pain in the ass as well. He never knew how long he’d be home or when he’d be back and cleaning out a fridge of rotten food more than once had discouraged him. He’d overheard some people at the Continental bar talking about this great place only a few streets over from his apartment so he’d filed the information away in the back of his brain. He liked the place because it was warm, the soft furnishings meant it wasn’t overly loud and it was small. Easy to keep an eye on everyone. The food was magnificent. He’d never had a home so to speak of but he imagined this kind of comforting food would have been it. He came in at least a few times a week. Unless he was away. The waitstaff knew him because he always tipped so well and was polite, quiet and always ate alone. </p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“TDH is back.” </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“TDH -- oh, you know. Always a one top, we call him tall dark and handsome---TDH for short. He’s been coming in for months now. Few times a week at least. Sometimes he’s gone for a while but then he comes back. You’ve never met him?” </p><p>“No--and why didn’t anyone tell me we have a regular like that? You know I like to meet our regulars if I can.”</p><p>“He doesn’t talk much and really keeps to himself. Like, we call him TDH because even though he’s been coming in for months we don’t know his name and now it’s been too long to ask.”</p><p>Your curiosity was piqued to say the least. Usually people who were regulars would ask if they could meet you, especially since your career had taken off, so you decided that you’d make time to pop into the dining room for service. See what this mystery guy was all about. </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>John was enjoying his roasted chicken with mixed seasonal vegetables and garlic mashed potatoes. The server had recommended a nice light red to go with the meal and he’d taken them up on their suggestion. The skin on the chicken was perfectly crisp and the meat was so tender and juicy. Then there were the mashed potatoes. “My god, these are delicious.” He thought to himself as he savoured the richness of them. He spotted someone in chefs whites moving elegantly from table to table. Chit chatting with each guest with ease. He swallowed and took another sip of his wine. He wasn’t a fan of small talk but he secretly hoped she’d come over.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“Hi, how is everything tonight?” You asked. Tall dark and handsome was an understatement. You felt yourself grow nervous under his gaze.</p><p>“Delicious. It’s all really good.”</p><p>“I’m pleased to hear that, uh?” You looked at him expectantly. </p><p>“Oh, um John. John Wick.” He stuck out his hand and you shook it.</p><p>“Nice to meet you John.”</p><p>“You’re...oh right. I’m sorry your name’s above the door.”</p><p>“That’s quite alright. Can I get you anything else? Dessert?”</p><p>“No, thank you. Though. May I ask? How do you get these mashed potatoes to be so creamy? Mine are never like this.”</p><p>You smiled widely and gave a knowing chuckle. “Butter. There’s more butter in them than you probably want to know about.” You said with a playful wink. “Enjoy the rest of your meal John.” </p><p>“Thank you.” He said quietly. He seemed a little dazzled by you but you shook that thought away and moved to the next table. You didn’t have time for anything but the restaurant anyhow. </p><p>--------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“Hi, how is everything tonight?” She asked, standing beside the table. </p><p>He cleared his throat, not having expected having to talk to anyone, let alone an absolutely accomplished---and beautiful woman. </p><p>“Delicious. It’s all really good.” He answered. He could feel the heat creeping into his face. Unsure of whether it was the wine or her warmth that brought it on. He muddled his way through their conversation but the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach only increased the longer it went on. His idea of trying to flirt was asking how she made the mashed potatoes. “I’m so bad at this.” He thought to himself as he watched her walk to the next table. “Pretty sad cliche, single man falls head over heels for gorgeous woman who makes good food.” He mused as he finished the last bites of his dinner. He shook his head slightly and sat back against the chair, draining the last of the wine from the glass. He wanted her. He knew that much. But this was awkward and tricky. If he didn’t do this the right way he’d be out of a restaurant to eat at and truthfully, that made him pause, if only for a moment. </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>You went on with your night. Content in the knowledge that your customers were happy. Service had gone well---never once going into the weeds. You finally had a team that felt solid and worked well together. A crew you were proud of. You stayed in your office late into the night, going over the days receipts, double checking vendor orders and musing over menu ideas for the next week. It was never ending, gruelling work but you thrived on it. It was rewarding to see people’s eyes light up as their plates were set down in front of them. The little sounds they made as they tasted the food. Your thoughts turned to John. There was something different about that man. He was polite, well dressed---but clearly used to being on his own. He’d blushed a bit when you talked to him. “Could he be? Interested? Nah, it was the wine flush. It had to be.” You reasoned with yourself. Though, if he was a regular, like your service staff said---maybe you’d have the chance to find out. “It’d be nice to date someone outside of the kitchen world. Schedules would be tricky though.” You thought. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Head down. Work hard. Whatever happens, happens.” </p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>You and John settled into a comfortable pattern. Your servers would tip you off about his arrival, you’d occasionally send over something new for him to try. When he’d almost be done eating you’d pop out to chat for a while. One night when he was in the kitchen was in the weeds. Sweat was rolling down your neck and back as you fought to get back on track. The dishwasher had called in sick and your sous chef had cut themselves badly enough they needed to go to the hospital for stitches. Needless to say, a chat with John wasn’t in the cards. </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Gazing around the restaurant he could tell it was full. People were lined up outside and he’d had to forego his usual table to eat at the bar---not that he minded. She’d sent out a dessert to him. “Chef sends her apologies---she’d come say hello but kitchen’s shorthanded tonight.” He smiled at the server. “That’s so thoughtful of her to send dessert. Tell her I’ll see her next time. And Thank you. For this.” He said gesturing at the lemon tart with perfectly toasted meringue sitting in front of him.</p><p>“Anything else for you?” The server asked.</p><p>“A cappuccino, please.”</p><p>“Coming right up.”</p><p>John’s face fell a little as soon as the server walked away. The tart was delicious. The sourness of the lemon was in perfect harmony with the sweetness of the meringue. He wished he could tell her himself---watching as her eyes lit up with the pleasure of knowing she’d done well. He’d been hoping to ask her out tonight, finally---but that wasn’t going to happen now.</p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>The alleyway was cool and dark. Much quieter than the bustling kitchen. You’d ducked out the back door to catch your breath for a few minutes. You were watching the people pass by on the sidewalk a few meters away when you spotted him. “John!” You called. Instantly wondering why you’d done that. Calling him to join you in an alley. When you’re an absolute mess. </p><p>Yet, here he was walking towards you. </p><p>“Hey, rough night?” He asked. </p><p>You laughed a little. </p><p>“Thank you for the tart. It was perfect.” He said quietly. He seemed nervous. You felt nervous. </p><p>“Sorry I couldn’t stop---”</p><p>“Hey, it’s really alright. Though.” He paused for a moment.</p><p>“Uh, huh?” You asked.</p><p>He finally looked back up at you with a sheepish grin. “I missed talking to you. And.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not how I thought this would go but, are you seeing anyone at the moment?”</p><p>He asked. </p><p>You let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. </p><p>“No, I’m not seeing anyone.” You said confidently.</p><p>“I’d be happy to see you, though. If that’s what you’re leading up to here, John.” </p><p>He smiled widely. His eyes sparkled in the low light of the alley. “That’s what I was going to ask.” He affirmed with a grin. He slid his hands into his pockets. He looked a lot more relaxed now. </p><p>“When are you free?” </p><p>“Truthfully? Never. You seem like someone worth making time for, John.” You rushed to get your words out before he felt like you were backing out. </p><p>“I think so.” He said as he stepped closer to you. </p><p>He reached out and tucked an errant piece of your hair that was sticking out from your bandanna. </p><p>Your face tingled where his fingers had brushed along your skin. </p><p>“Sunday night. We’re closed Monday. I know, weird time for a date, but.”</p><p>“It’s perfect. After service?” </p><p>“Well, lookit you knowing the language.”</p><p>John shrugged with a sly smile. </p><p>“I’ll meet you here. Sunday.”</p><p>“Alright, I better get back in there. See you Sunday John.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. It took him by surprise. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and backed away. “See you. Sunday.” He said with a smile before he turned and walked back toward the sidewalk. </p><p>You ducked back into the kitchen. Things had smoothed out and stayed that way. Dishes weren’t piled up any longer so that was a good sign. “Find something interesting in that alleyway, chef?” Your server asked. You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Why?” </p><p>“Well, one you were gone for a while and two, TDH seemed so sad when I told him you were too busy to say hi that before he left I told him that sometimes you take a breather out back. </p><p>“YOU DIDN’T”</p><p>“Mmhmm. I did. I couldn’t stand you two dancing around each other anymore. So a lil benign interference and here we are. He asked you out, didn’t he?” They asked. A very knowing smirk on their face.</p><p>You silently grinned, not quite able to meet their gaze.</p><p>The put their hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently. “You need to have a life outside of this place too. You’ll run yourself into the ground if you don’t take some time and return all of the love and kindness you put into this place---and us---back into yourself too. Now, let’s never speak of this again until it’s time to spill some details, alright?”</p><p>You were left a little off guard by the sudden rush of emotion you felt. For once it was all positive emotion and you didn’t know how to handle it. Other than by throwing yourself right back into work.</p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Sunday service had flown by. You’d cut out a tiny bit early, leaving your trusted staff to shut down for the night---something you rarely ever did but you needed the time to unwind and make yourself look somewhat presentable for your date with John. Your stomach was fluttering like crazy as the hot water pelted down on you in the shower. Washing away the sweat and grime from your day in the kitchen and soothing your sore muscles. Tendrils of steam curled around you as you stepped out of the shower. You didn’t believe in love at first sight but for some reason this man---you wanted him and wanted to let him in. A very very rare feeling. You were guarded and not inclined to let yourself get carried away with daydreams. Yet, here you were. Thinking about him, hell, dreaming about him more than you’d like to admit. </p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“A suit is too much.” He thought as he settled on a pair of dark jeans, a black vneck tshirt and a gray button down sweater. He frowned at himself in the mirror and fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt. Unsure of if it was too casual or not---but he knew at the time of night they were heading out they wouldn’t wind up anywhere he’d feel out of place. He wasn’t about to take her to the continental. He tucked a strand of his collar length dark hair behind his ear and took a last look at himself before he shrugged on his leather jacket, slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys and wallet off the marble counter-top. It’d been a while since he’d gone on a proper date. John wasn’t the nervous type but this felt like it could be the start of something, rather than a means to an end. He did well when he knew what the rules were, an agreement between adults for shared pleasure that had a fixed expiration date. Not so much when the emotional stakes were higher---or when they were involved at all. He opted to drive to pick her up, he still hadn’t settled on where they would be going but figured she’d have an idea of what she’d want after a long day. </p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>You settled on leather leggings and an oversized knit sweater with a statement necklace for your date. You set your makeup with a bit of powder and spritzed on your favourite perfume. It’d been a very long time since you’d had a chance to go out on a date so you opted for stylish comfort. “If he’s not ok with that---too bad.” You thought. Though, somehow it didn’t feel like something he’d have a problem with. You checked your phone and saw that it was almost 11PM, you grabbed your purse off your couch, shrugged on your coat and headed downstairs to wait for him. </p><p>The loud rumble of an engine pulled you away from your twitter feed. John parked and stepped out of the most gorgeous vintage car you’d laid eyes on. He jogged across the street toward you, stuck out his hand and offered to help you up from your place on the bench outside your restaurant. “Handsome and polite?” You said with a grin. He kept hold of your hand and pulled you against him. Kissing you on the cheek. “You look gorgeous.” He said. You grinned even wider. “So, what’s the plan for tonight.” </p><p>“Hmm. Well, I figured we could pick up some food and drive out to the water? If that’s something you’d be into?” He said.</p><p>“That sounds perfect, actually. I’m kind of in the mood for fries and a milkshake---but honestly, if you had something in mind I’m flexible.” </p><p>“You fine with Shake Shack?” He asked as he opened the car door for you.</p><p>“Mmm. Yes.” You answered as you slid into the seat.</p><p>John settled behind the wheel and started the car.</p><p>“Shake Shack it is!” He said as he smiled and swung the car onto the road. </p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>From that night onward you were inseparable. John had revealed later that the moment he spotted you sitting outside on the bench in front of your restaurant that he knew deep down you were it for him. Beautiful, accomplished, so talented and skilled. How could he not be completely smitten. You’d only cemented things with how kind and generous and warm you were---not just to him but to everyone who crossed your path. Any trace of nervousness you’d had about your date melted away when he reached out to help you up. He was considerate, quiet, hung on every word you said and probably, no, definitely was the most attractive man you’d ever gone out with. Eventually he’d revealed some deeply unsettling truths about what he did and why he’d vanish on business trips at the drop of a hat---but with your fucked up family backstory---you were a lot more understanding than he ever could have hoped you to be.  In one another you’d found happiness, safety, and most importantly, love.  </p><p>“You’re staring, sweetheart.” John said as he deftly slid your omelette onto the plate. You sauntered over and wrapped your arms around his waist, sandwiching him between you and the marble counter. “I was just thinking about our first date.” You said. </p><p>“Shake Shack. Hey--my cooking isn’t that bad.” He said with a laugh.</p><p>“What? No. Look at this omelette, perfectly cooked and clean presentation, John. I’d hire you if you weren’t already my husband.”</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Anything But Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Shit.” You muttered as you leaned forward and pressed your fingers into your forehead.</p><p>“You’re doing it again.”</p><p>“Doing what again, John?”</p><p>“Your super worried but suffer in silence thing.” John said as he gently pulled you back against the chair and worked his fingers into the tense muscles of your shoulders. You relaxed into his touch and let out a sigh.</p><p>“I thought that was YOUR thing.”</p><p>“Suppose so. It’s your thing too.” John said pointedly.</p><p>His hands stilled their soothing motions and you finally relented. </p><p>“The barback just quit. Without notice.”</p><p>“Steve?” </p><p>“Mmhmm. I don’t even know what we’re going to do. It’s Saturday for fucks sake. I mean–I…”</p><p>“You mean you wish you had a really strong guy that takes direction well and can work tonight?” John said as he resumed working each and every knot out of your shoulders. </p><p>“Exactly. Wait. What?”</p><p>“I’m saying I’m happy to help out in the restaurant tonight.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. </p><p>——————————————-</p><p>John wiped the bar down. The cloth slid along the polished wood surface in his large hand. It was hard to not get caught up in watching him move. The way his rolled up shirt sleeves allowed you to see his forearms flexing as he lifted the trays of clean glasses. The way his shirt drew tight across his muscled back as he slid the wine glasses into the rack above the bar. The bulge of his biceps as he heaved the beer kegs into place. Your attention was always split twenty different ways when you were in the restaurant but your eyes were always drawn back to him tonight.</p><p>In the turnover between the 2nd and 3rd seatings of the night you had time to check in with him out in the alley where he’d asked you out all those years ago. “I think you might be the best barback we’ve ever had.” </p><p>“It’s because I want to impress the boss.”</p><p>“Oh–she’s impressed. And grateful. Very grateful.” You said as you worked your hands into his back pockets. </p><p>He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. John never knew what to do with your compliments but that never stopped you from giving them freely. </p><p>He leaned down and kissed you. Capturing your lower lip softly between his teeth and humming lowly before letting you go again.</p><p>“Alright. We better get back in there.”</p><p>“Yes, chef!” He answered as he held the door open for you.</p><p>You made your way through the buzzing dining room, stopping at a few tables to say hello to some familiar faces before you checked in with your front of house staff. This time of the evening was your favourite. The worst of the rush was behind you and on a good night the kitchen had settled into a comfortable rhythm. After the host ran over the state of the bookings with you you migrated over to the bar. </p><p>“How’s working the bar with John?” You asked Janice. You always could trust her judgement – she’d been less than thrilled with the work ethic of your last barback and had said as much – but before you even had a chance to let him go he’d quit on you.</p><p>“I’m not just saying this because you’re married to him – I’d be overjoyed if you could find someone who works like he does.” She said with a wide smile. </p><p>“That’s a tall order.” You replied. “But I found you–so I think it’s doable. I’m hoping he’s ok with filling in until I find someone.”</p><p>You both looked down to the other end of the bar where John was busily prepping lemons and limes for garnish. </p><p>“Looks like he might be ok with that.” Janice said before she got back to work making the next round of orders for a table. </p><p>You were making your way back to the kitchen when someone got your attention. </p><p>“‘Scuse me – you’re the chef here right?” A blond middle aged man said, grabbing you by the wrist as you made your way past him at the bar. You steeled yourself for what you knew was coming and smiled politely at him while gently attempting to pull out of his grasp. “Yes, this is my restaurant.” </p><p>“You should let go of her buddy.” John said without looking up from where he was slicing citrus across from the man.</p><p>“Oh, yeah sorry.” He said as he dropped his hand from your wrist. </p><p>“He’s a bit rude, hmm? Anyway.” You semi-tuned out the man in front of you and your eyes kept drifting over to John. </p><p>“I wouldn’t say he’s rude. He’s new. A great hire I think.”</p><p>“A woman like you doesn’t need to have someone speak on your behalf.”</p><p>You smiled cooly. “I don’t think that was his intent.”</p><p>“Anyways, I was going to say a gorgeous woman like you should have a night off once in a while. I’d like to help you unwind sometime.”</p><p>You inwardly cringed. Thinking and there it is to yourself. This happened every once in a while and you always hated it.</p><p>“Usually I save my time off for my husband.”</p><p>“I don’t see a ring.” The man answered, his ruddy face showing exactly how many glasses of wine he’d had. </p><p>You glanced again at John and his mouth was drawn into a tight line, one palm planted firmly on the burnished wood of the bar. </p><p>“I’m a chef. I don’t wear it when I’m working. Is there anything else I can get you?”</p><p>“Aside from you?” </p><p>You rolled your eyes. “Yes, aside from me.”</p><p>“Maybe another glass of red.”</p><p>“One red.” You called to Janice and she grimaced when she saw who you were pointing at. </p><p>“Enjoy the rest of your night. I have to go.” You said as you walked away.</p><p>——————————————————————————</p><p>“Hey, mouthy.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” John said.</p><p>“Is she really married? I feel like that’s a line. She seemed really into me.”</p><p>“You think so?” </p><p>“Definitely.” The man said before he took a big swig of his wine. </p><p>“Then you should go for it. I mean, I’m new here–I don’t know much about her personal life. Give it a shot.” John said as he ignored the laugh coming from behind him. </p><p>“Why’s she laughing?” The blond asked about Janice who was pressing the back of her hand to her mouth. Trying and failing to suppress her laughter.</p><p>“Beats me. Women, you know?” John said with a shrug.</p><p>“Fair enough.” </p><p>“Do you want me to ask her to come back? Any man would be lucky to be with her. Happy to help a guy out.”</p><p>“You’d do that?”</p><p>“Yeah, no problem.”</p><p>John headed back toward the kitchen. A wicked grin on his face as soon as his back was turned to the semi-drunk louse.</p><p>He came back with a folded napkin and set it down on the bar in front of the man. </p><p>“What’s it say?”</p><p>“I don’t read things not meant for me.”</p><p>“Huh. You know, you’re not a bad guy. Sorry I called you rude earlier.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it.” John said as he went back to putting away glasses. </p><p>“Looks like I was right! See ya later!” </p><p>“Later.” </p><p>Janice never brought up what happened to the man for the rest of the night. They were hit by a sudden rush of customers and everyone was too busy to wonder about where that awful man had gone to. </p><p>You came out for one last round of checking in on customers and stopped at the bar when you saw the creepy man from before was gone. “Uh, thank god that guy’s gone. He was way too handsy and way too creepy.” You said to Janice–who suddenly broke into laughter.</p><p>Your host came through on their way to leave for the night. </p><p>“Are you talking about that weird blond man?” They asked.</p><p>“Yeah – he was hitting on Chef here right in front of John.”</p><p>“Oh. OH! That makes so much sense now. That dude came back and tried to get in again and he was ranting and raving about being tricked and falling into the alleyway. He just seemed really drunk so I refused him entry.”</p><p>All eyes turned to John who was quietly wiping down the bar. </p><p>“John?” You asked cautiously.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“Did you toss that man into the alley?”</p><p>“No. But I did write a note that suggested you’d be waiting for him through the door by the washroom….”</p><p>Janice slapped John on the arm. “YOU DIDN’T! I wouldn’t have pegged you as the jealous type.” </p><p>“Listen, I’m not going to let some creep stay here and bother everyone, let alone my wife. I heard the way he was bothering you all night and then he escalated things to getting handsy. I didn’t want there to be a big scene. I just……helped him out the door a little.”</p><p>“Well, next time maybe just let me know when you’re going to help someone out the back door again so I don’t bear the brunt of that messiness, John.” The host said with an exasperated but amused sigh. </p><p>———————————————————————</p><p>Soon it was just you and John. He was straightening up the bar, making sure everything was clean and ready to go for tomorrow. You fished around in your pocket, frantically as always, before your fingers closed on the familiar smooth, cool metal. You carefully slid the ring back onto your finger. </p><p>“Do you want a drink before we head upstairs?” John asked with a gentle grin. His eyes scanned down and caught the way the light glinted off your wedding band. He never tired of seeing that on you. The sign that you were a matched set. </p><p>You shook your head. “Nah, I’d rather head upstairs and unwind with something on the couch with you.”</p><p>“What do you want to drink?” He asked as he guided you to the exit with his hand on your lower back.</p><p>“I think….anything but red.”</p>
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